


broadway's dark tonight

by thatotherperv



Series: hide beside me 'verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-04
Updated: 2009-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prequel to hide beside me (but it should be read afterwards).  How Jensen came to be on Jeff's doorstep, demanding sex.</p><p>Original posts <a href="http://thatotherperv.livejournal.com/tag/hide%20beside%20me">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	broadway's dark tonight

He never should have come to one of these things alone.

Jensen let his head fall back against the garage door with a hollow thud and contemplated a cigarette. It would at least give him an excuse to be out in the driveway when he was supposed to be in there, pressing the flesh. On the other hand, he still couldn't light up without feeling his mother's disapproval, strong as if she were on his shoulder.

He thought about the miserable excuse of a party he could hear dragging on inside and fished a half-full pack out of his jacket pocket. There was a _world_ of bullshit in LA his mom would never approve of, and nicotine was the least of it. Jensen's dad swore he just needed to suck it up for a few more months, that he was bound to find something fast, but nights like tonight made Jensen want to swear the whole thing off and crawl on home with his tail between his legs.

Wouldn't have been so bad if Chris were here, but he'd skipped out at the last minute, to Jensen's complete lack of surprise, and Jensen was wishing he'd done the same. This party was fourth tier at best, and given the stench of desperation, any job offer would have strings that didn't interest him in the slightest. As it was, there were a couple suits inside he'd turned down before, and if he didn't leave soon, one of them would push the issue again.

This was why it was good having Chris around. Dude's body language was so hetero, it made Jensen straight by association. That, or everyone figured Chris for his super butch boyfriend.

But that could just be wishful thinking on Jensen's part.

"Hey, c'n I bum one of those?"

Jensen's heart jumped at the unexpected company, but he tamped it down. Compensated by taking his sweet time turning towards the front walk.

The speaker stood at a respectable distance—backlit from the porch so that Jensen had to squint to get more than a silhouette. He shifted closer at the exact moment Jensen pegged him from inside. Large guy, at least ten years his senior with a laugh that boomed frequently across the room and sent shivers down Jensen's spine. He'd been sizing Jensen up all night, so he'd gone out of his way to avoid a conversation. He wasn't sure who the dude was in the grand scheme of things—producer, director, writer, exec—but it was a pretty good guess what he wanted.

Safe to say it was no coincidence they were both outside grabbing a smoke.

Jensen looked down and flicked his cigarette. Concentrated on making his voice strong and even, despite his nerves.

"I'm not looking for a job."

The man shifted closer, head ducking as if to look Jensen in the face. "Okay…but isn't that the point of shindigs like this?"

He was good. Amused but not patronizing. Flirtatious, but not wheedling. He was either really good at this, or he was someone Jensen could actually trust. Jensen edged farther away.

"I was just leaving," he said unequivocally. "Waiting for a ride."

He kicked himself immediately for the poorly conceived lie. He hadn't called a cab yet—planning on making one more round so he could say he did—and he didn't think this guy would be shaken off just that easily. Seemed like someone who would play dense when it suited him. Jensen was proven right on that a half-beat later.

"Wait with you. How about that smoke?"

If Kane were here, he'd tell this guy to go fuck himself. …No he wouldn't. Kane wouldn't have the same expectations placed on him, and they'd end up being best friends. _Jensen_ should have told him to fuck off. Instead, he took the pack back out of his pocket.

"I'm Jeff, by the way."

Their hands brushed surreptitiously as Jeff took the cigarette, and it wasn't Jensen's doing. He shuffled back half a step.

"Hi, Jeff."

Silence spooled out pointedly, but rather than backing off or taking offense, Jeff laughed. The sound made Jensen's palms sweat, same as Jeff's rueful smile. He had a great smile that transformed his whole face, and it made Jensen edgy and prickly and hot under his skin.

Jeff flicked away some ash and took a fresh drag. "Guess I don't get anything in return, huh?"

" _You're_ the one that followed _me_ ," Jensen snapped, a fresh wave of embarrassment at his own temper. He sounded like a bitchy queen, but Jesus Christ, why couldn't the guy take a hint and _leave_?

Instead he chuckled in a way that had Jensen smashing his cigarette and shaking out another. "Okay," Jeff conceded, something shifting in his tone. "You got me, red-handed. But you can't blame a guy for being interested."

Jensen snorted out his true opinion of that before he could stop himself, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Jeff's easy smile grow. Same warmth, stripped of flirtation. He turned away from Jensen for a moment to look at the door, withdrawing a step as he did.

"Tell you the truth, I woulda snuck out here on my own. Too much self-respect to stay in _there_ another goddamn minute. I could shoot my agent for sending me to this thing."

Jensen cracked a smile in recognition in spite of himself.

"See, you know what I'm talkin' about! They could sell tickets to one of these things, market it as some kind of art installation. _Networking of the Living Dead_."

Jensen huffed out a laugh, though he really shouldn't encourage the guy. He wasn't completely convinced backing off wasn't part of the ploy. "Yeah. Buddy'a mine bailed on me tonight. Think he had the right idea."

Jeff gave him a nod and wandered away far enough to lean against the wall; when he didn't push the conversation, Jensen relaxed a little more. He snuck a few glances Jeff's way, but Jeff was no longer watching him, and they finished their cigarettes in silence.

"Friend, or a cab?" Jeff asked out of nowhere, toeing his out.

"Huh?"

Jeff flashed dimples that made Jensen's throat constrict and gestured vaguely to the street. "We've been out here for a while. Might wanna call again if you're expecting a cab."

"Oh." Jensen felt heat rush to his face. "Um."

He sucked at impromptu lies. Jeff laughed, warm and low, and Jensen felt it, deep down. "You haven't called one yet."

Jensen ducked his head, trying not to smile himself. He scratched awkwardly behind one ear. "Uh. Not really, no."

"Didn't think so."

Jeff was watching him intently, and Jensen realized he actually didn't mind the interest at all.

"Listen, kid—"

"Jensen," he supplied, without thought.

"Jensen." Jeff waited for him to look up before his smile spread, a thank-you for the name. "I know I was trying to get in your pants before, but you look like you've had your fill of that and now I'm just offering a free ride home. No strings, swear on my mother."

Jensen smiled at the pavement beside his boot. "Does your mother know you go around swearing on her?"

"She won't mind if it's for a good cause."

For just a minute, it was tempting. To trust Jeff. To go with him. Hell, to let Jeff give him more than just a _ride home_. It'd been a long while for Jensen; hadn't taken long for the shine to wear off of the LA club scene. It hadn't taken long before that felt too empty, and this would be no different.

"Naw. Thanks, but I can't put you out of your way." He pulled out his phone. "I'll just call that cab."

Jeff paused like he might push the issue, then gave a little shrug. "Okay. Thanks for the smoke. I supposedly quit but—"

"No problem."

"Listen," Jeff said, lingering. "Let me give you my number. Just in case."

Jensen smiled at the transparency, and Jeff grinned acknowledgement. "Just in case?"

"Just in case. I mean, no kidding."

Jensen hesitated, but. He didn't have to give his in return. He didn't have to _call_ him, ever. "Yeah, ok."

  


* * *

  
"She has great tits."

Jensen rolled his eyes at Chris, and the television—apparently Pamela Lee had a new sex tape out, and why the fuck were they watching this gossip crap, anyway. Sometimes Chris was such a woman. "She has _fake_ tits."

"So?" Chris looked at Jensen like the mentally challenged. "They're still awesome."

"They're…ridiculous. Architecturally unsound. They're too fucking big."

"No such thing. You _honestly_ trying to tell me you wouldn't hit that?"

"I'm absolutely, one-hundred percent telling you I wouldn't hit that."

"Bullshit."

Jensen slumped further into the couch and huffed, frustrated. The dickhead possessed horrible taste in women, and conversations like this one made Jensen crazy. It was beyond him how he'd ended up in a situation where his best friend didn't know he was gay. Never thought he'd be that guy, but now that he'd put it off…. There was just no good way to tell him.

"I wouldn't fuck her with _your_ dick," he finally said, because hey, that was true. "She's married to fucking Tommy Lee, dude. He's one walking STD."

Chris grunted and changed the channel. "Point," he conceded. "Though I've heard the dude has an _enormous_ schlong."

Jensen choked on his beer, and Chris cackled and pounded his back. He wondered again if this was his in, but by the time Jensen could breathe, he’d chickened out. Chris settled into the hypnotic rhythm of a rapid-fire channel change, and Jensen let the moment pass.

The fucked up thing was that he'd been out in Texas. He'd been _out_ in _Texas_. He'd been out to his parents. He'd been out to his classmates and his church congregation and the local freaking newspaper, and it wasn't all peace, love and harmony but he'd done alright. Dallas wasn't San Fran or even Austin, but there had still been options, and he'd grown up with a dad in _theater_ , so he'd have gotten shit from the redneck set even if he'd been banging every chick in a ten-mile radius.

Being in the closet had never been an option for him, not really. Not when he’d fallen in love with his best friend, right out of puberty. Everybody back home had known he was gay, because everybody had known he was with Jared. Who, in spite of the tendency to shriek when he spotted a cockroach, was undeniably male. By the time Jared's dad got transferred, the issue was kinda moot.

Until he moved to LA. Here, he was welcomed with an agent that wouldn't take him on til he agreed to play it straight and a roommate from the classifieds that used to lock his bedroom door at night.

That first month and a half living with Jack had been so fucking miserable that by the time he met Chris as a friend of a friend of a friend from back home, it seemed like a good idea to just keep his damn mouth shut.

And now it seemed like an awkward thing to bring up. Like, _hey, dude, I never told you this before, but I love cock. Pass me a Shiner, would you?_

He was pretty sure that Chris wouldn't like…break his nose or evict him, no matter how often he called Jensen queer and fairy and fudgepacker and. Locker room bullshit like that. But he was also pretty sure the only reason Chris hadn't recognized Jensen's big damn crush on him was that he was completely clueless it was a possibility.

"Goddamn, do you see this shit? Did you see him drop that ball?"

To be fair, it probably _appeared_ as though Jensen were watching the tv, given that he was slumped against the sofa with his eyes trained on the screen. But Chris had settled on a rerun of a baseball game on ESPN2 and Jensen wasn’t a fan.

Not that he could ever admit that to Christian. "I know, man, what the hell."

"That's the third time he's missed the cutoff man! He needs to spend less time on his goddamn car collection and more time on fundamentals, because it's shit like this that's kept us out of the pennant the last few years."

Jensen stared at the screen, bemused. He couldn't even tell who was playing, but Chris looked ready to pop a vein. "Dude, chill out. It's a _rerun_."

Chris scowled at him with all the displeasure he'd been saving up for the poor sap that had dropped the ball.

"Whatever. They pull this shit every goddamn year and expect a salary hike. All I know is that Coach made me do ten laps if I missed the cutoff man _once_ and these jokers are pulling in a couple mill and they're _lazy_." Chris appraised his body in a way that made Jensen warm and acutely uncomfortable. "You know how it is. You played in high school, am I right?"

"Not even a little."

"Not…." Chris gaped like he'd just admitted to chopping up his sister. " _Never?_ Not even Little League?"

He laughed. "Nope. Not even t-ball."

"What the hell," Chris swore, like he needed a sit-down with Jensen's daddy. "What'd you play instead? And don't say golf."

"I _did_ play golf."

"Golf ain't a sport, it's a pastime. You don't break a sweat playing _golf_. I'm talking about things _men_ do, Jensen. I've _seen_ you play basketball, so I know that wasn't it. What, football?"

Oh God. He had totally backed himself into a corner on this one. Jensen felt his face heating, and instantly Chris's eyes narrowed, smelling blood in the water. "No…not. Exactly. But it was sort of… _tied_ to football."

"If you say the marching band, I'mma whoop your ass."

Jensen let out a nervous laugh. "Not the marching band."

"Well then what—"

"I was a cheerleader," Jensen blurted. He covered his eyes against the shocked silence. He didn't know _why_ because he could already _see_ the big dumb grin on Chris's stupid face and in about two seconds he'd—

Start cackling like a retarded hyena, and sometimes Jensen hated being right. He also hated how infectious Chris could be, or what a pushover Jensen was for him, because by the time Chris grabbed his arm and held on for dear life, Jensen was laughing too. Chris was red in the face—almost purple—and gasping, violently spastic, and when he pressed his forehead to Jensen's shoulder, Jensen felt an upwelling of familiar affection.

Chris was wiping honest-to-god tears out of his eyes when he finally subsided. "Oh. Oh, God, Jenny. That is the best—" He choked, struggling to get ahold of himself while Jensen playfully shoved him away. "That is the best goddamn thing I've ever heard in my life. _Jees_ us Christ, man. I swear. You couldn't be more of a natural-born faggot if you were taking it up the ass right here in our _living room_."

Chris went off on another peal of laughter, weaker than the first if just as hysterical.

But Jensen was frozen like he'd been slapped in the face…an eternity before he could even breathe. Thank God he recovered before Chris could notice his slip. He laughed woodenly and choked out the come-back Chris expected.

If he sounded stiff, Chris didn't notice. He just breathed out a sigh and clapped Jensen on the knee and said, "I swear, man, I love you, but sometimes you make me wonder."

"Fuck you," Jensen grumbled, but it was just the script. The numb surprise that had swamped him minutes before was starting to drain away, leaving a sick empty feeling in his stomach. Nothing like anger. This was something Jensen couldn't quite name.

Chris bumped his shoulder companionably and turned back to the tv.

It was the same kind of shit Chris was always spouting off, not just at Jensen but at everyone. He didn't mean anything by it. He knew Chris wasn't really homophobic, they had gay friends. And shit, how many times had the two of them crashed out in the same bed when Dave stole the other room to bang some girl. Chris was always buck naked no matter how many times Jensen had told him to put on some damn clothes, because nighttime was _when he let his balls breathe_.

And ok, Chris would probly put an end to that if he knew that Jensen _liked_ balls, and Chris's in particular. But that was in the best interest of Jensen's sanity anyway.

Because the thing was, he knew Chris was straight. Bastard had no _modesty_ , but he'd never shown any interest in men and Jensen would know. He'd spent the last year _watching_ for it. And yeah, there were times Jensen would swear that they were flirting but then he'd blink and it would degenerate into a disgusting juvenile dick-measuring contest. Anything else was just his wishful thinking.

Because Jensen Ackles was a _natural-born faggot_ and Christian Kane was never gonna look at him the way he wanted.

"Jen?" Chris grabbed his knee and shook it, like he'd been trying to get his attention for a while. He smirked and squeezed his thigh. "If I'da known I was boring you, darlin', I woulda changed the channel before now. I can try to find the national cheerleading playoffs if you'd prefer."

Jensen jerked away and stood before he could think to laugh along…and once he was up, his feet sorta propelled him towards the door. He grabbed his keys off the table and shoved his feet in his boots.

"Jen?" Chris sounded off, but Jensen didn't look up. Couldn't. "Where the hell are you going?"

"I'm just, tired of being home," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and lifting his eyes as far as the coffee table.

"…Alright. Lemme get my shoes and we can go grab a—"

"No." It was sharp, and peripherally, he could see the shock on Chris's face. Jensen tried to play it down. "I'm just gonna go for a drive, it's no big thing."

"…Okay. Did I—"

Jensen didn't wanna hear an apology, didn't wanna stick around and convince himself of how much Chris cared. Done, done, done, he needed out.

He let the door fall shut hard behind him.

  


* * *

  
He drove around for four hours before he thought to call Jeff. Chris had called him twice in that time, left messages that Jensen didn't check. He thought about going to Steve's, thought about going to Jason's, thought about going to their favorite bar but none of those options allowed him to avoid Chris. Fucker could be persistent when he wanted to be. So Jensen just…drove.

No shortage of asphalt in LA.

Chris was never going to fuck him. Chris was _never_ going to fuck him. In all likelihood, fucking Jensen would never cross his _mind_.

From about, what, two months into living with Chris, Jensen had avoided hooking up with anyone. He _knew_ Chris was straight. He _knew_ Chris was never going to fuck him. But maybe he had kind of hoped…that Chris would come to his senses, realize he loved cock, and bang Jensen's brains out.

Jensen pulled into a gas station and cut his engine before a metal pole started to look like the best solution to his own stupidity.

It was all his own damn fault. Jensen knew better than this, and he'd accepted how it was a long time ago but lately it just seemed….

Fuck. If Jensen went back to the house tonight, he'd lose his goddamn mind. It was all too close to his skin. And the thing was, he loved Chris. Last few years, nobody else could have gotten him through like Chris had. Most days Chris's maturity level made Jensen look like he was rounding thirty, but he was a solid guy, and he loved Jensen like a brother.

Like a real brother. Jensen didn't want to resent him for that. He just needed to buy himself a little space to breathe.

He pulled out his phone and saw he had a missed call from Steve. Ignored it and flipped through his phone book, trying to come up with a place to crash, but most everyone he knew was connected to Chris. There were a few shady entries—first names and places, club hookups months old, and if he was _really_ smart, he'd call one of them. He'd go get laid. No problem that didn't look better after a few orgasms, but it's not like that would buy him a place to stay—

He scrolled back a couple of entries. Jeff.

That was nuts, right? He didn’t even know that guy. Only took his number as a polite brush-off to a pickup he wasn't—really—interested in. On the other hand, that meant there was zero chance of rejection, which he really couldn't handle right now. And the guy seemed alright. He wasn't the Unabomber or anything.

Jensen hit the button to dial before he could change his mind

"Hello?"

Jeff's voice was coarser than he remembered it, rough like he'd been dozing on the couch. Jensen glanced at the clock on the dash, surprised by the time. Shit. "Uh. Hi. Jeff?"

"…yup, that's me. Sorry but I don't recognize the number—"

"It's Jensen," he blurted, like that would mean a goddamn thing. "I, uh. We met last week—"

"At that God-awful party, yeah." There was a surprised, empty silence. "Hey. Can't say I was expecting this…you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I just. Saw your number and you said…. Listen, I—can I come over? Right now? I need…just, Jesus, can I come?"

"Yeah, man, of course. Are you ok to drive? Do you need—?"

"No, I'm fine, I just need directions."

Jensen closed his eyes and let Jeff ramble about every gas station and traffic light along the way. Call-waiting beeped…Chris or Steve or maybe—a long-shot but possible—Jared. Jared hadn't called in a year. People moved on, it was fine, Jensen didn't care.

Really, he didn't. Shit fell apart.

This wasn't about any of them. This was about growing the fuck up, and moving on. Something real. Someone that wanted him back, even if it was only sex.

Jensen threw the car in drive. Jeff was gonna fuck him. Jeff was gonna fuck him like he always thought Chris might.

And it'd all be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> cw fandom being what it is, I feel obligated to put it out there now that Jared will not be making a romantic/sexual come-back. I dunno if they get back in touch in this verse, but my intention is that they were best friends, then high school sweethearts, and that ship has sailed. I like having Jared as something huge and positive in his past that shaped his expectations...he's just not part of the future I have planned


End file.
